The Truth*
by SevenSparkles
Summary: This is a Titanic/Moulin Rouge crossover…what if some people weren’t who you thought they were? It is a bit strange, please read and review!


The Truth

**Disclaimer:**  I don't own any of the characters or anything related to Titanic or Moulin Rouge.  Titanic belongs to James Cameron and Paramount, and Moulin Rouge belongs to Baz Luhrmann and Fox.  

**A/N:**  This is a Titanic/Moulin Rouge crossover…what if some people weren't who you thought they were?  It is a bit strange, please read and review!

Paris, 1900

Christian sat at his typewriter, his finished manuscript scattered about the room.  He had to put it all together, because today he was going to get it published.  It had taken so long for him to write it – too long.  After Toulouse's constant begging, and Satine's last words ever-present in his mind, he had written their story.  What he would do after it was published, he didn't know.  Perhaps he would return to England…NO.  He couldn't do that.  His father would never accept him, especially since his book was titled _The Moulin Rouge_.  A place of sin, where he would never amount to anything, or so his father said.  

He went around the room, picking up all of the pieces of his manuscript, to prepare it for the publisher.  As he picked up the pieces, he glanced at them, reading them over.  The words brought memories to him, tears cascading down his face, as he dreamt of Satine.  His Satine.  At that very moment, Toulouse walked into the room.  "Cwistian!  He is hew!  The pubwishew!"  "T-Toulouse, are you sure it is him?"  "Oh yes Cwistian, he is waiting downstaiws."  Christian pieced the rest of his story together as quickly and carefully as he could, and carried it downstairs.  He gave it to the man, and ran back up to his room, for thoughts of Satine filled his mind, and nothing anyone did or said could rid him of those thoughts.  

* * * * *

Christian sat in his room, waiting for news of his book.  It had been two weeks since he had given the book to the publisher.  But he would not have to wait any longer.  That afternoon, the publisher returned to Christian's apartment, and told him that everyone at the publishing house had loved his story, and that they too had wept in remembrance of the Moulin Rouge's Sparkling Diamond.  The publisher handed Christian the finished copy, and told him that the book would be sold in the Paris bookshops as soon as Christian would allow it.  The words "write our story Christian" sounded in his head, and he knew that he had to do this now – or else he might never do it.  "Tomorrow," he told the publisher.  "Tomorrow you may put out my book."  The publisher was ecstatic, and immediately left, not wanting to lose another minute.

Within days, Christian's book was a success.  People all over Paris wanted his book – even the bourgeois people who seemed so stuffy seemed interested in the love story of the penniless bohemian and his dancing courtesan.  Soon Christian had made enough money that he decided to return to England.  Not to go home, but to get away from here, with all of its memories – even though he was successful.  He booked passage on the next day's train, and said his farewells to Nini, Toulouse, Zidler, Marie, and of course the Argentinean.  

On the train, the familiar sights of Paris and France itself soon changed into old sights, ones that he remembered from his childhood days – of rolling hills and expansive meadows – the English countryside.  He got off of the train in London, to begin his new life.  And it was there that he came to meet Nathan Hockley, the head of Hockley Steel, and American steel company.  

Nathan became like a father to Christian, the father he had never had.  And Christian became like a son to Nathan, whose only child had been stillborn, but would today be the same age as Christian.  As the two men shared their woes, Nathan had a brilliant idea.  Nathan had no heir to his fortune, since his wife had died giving birth to his dead son, and he had never remarried.  But Nathan had always wanted a son, and so he decided to adopt Christian as his own.  Christian was only twenty-two, and wanted to be rid of his old life, and wanted to start anew, so he eagerly accepted Nathan's offer.  But Nathan had one request – Christian would have to be renamed.  If Nathan wanted to have a son, this son would have to bear the name that Nathan had originally wanted to give to his stillborn son – Caledon.  Christian agreed, for he did not want any contact with his real family possible, and he immediately went to get his name changed.  Christian was now Caledon Hockley, son of Nathan Hockley.

Philadelphia, 1909

Ruth DeWitt Bukater sat at the edge of her husband's bed, knowing that he was dying.  She couldn't bear to lose him, and neither could her daughter, Rose.  Rose was 14 years old, and she loved her father with every bone in her body – to lose him was so hard.  The last thing he said to her was this:  "my dear Rose, you must always follow your heart, and do what you want, believe in yourself, and you can succeed.  And you must find yourself a husband that you love, and that loves you.  For the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."  "Oh father," cried Rose.  "And take care of your mother for me."  That was his last request.  To take care of a mother that loved only her husband – and who cared deeply about her social standing.  That is why, after the funeral and all of the mourning had somewhat subsided, Ruth set out to find a suitor for her young Rose.  Though Rose was only 14, it was never too early to begin the search.  Rose of course was completely against that, and wanted to find someone who she loved.  Her mother wanted to find someone who would secure a place for Rose in society.  That is when she came into contact with Nathan Hockley.

            Ruth did not know Nathan that well, only knew that his wife had died in childbirth, but she had never found out if he had had a child or not.  After the "birth" he had kept to himself somewhat.  So when she met him at a dinner party, she naturally inquired if he had an heir to his fortune, or possibly a potential suitor for Rose.  Since Christian was with him, he introduced him.  "Ruth, I would like you to meet my son, Caledon."  "A pleasure, I'm sure," she responded.  Ruth spent the rest of the evening conversing with Nathan and Caledon, and when the night was over, she knew she had found her man.  As she was leaving the party, she asked Nathan and Caledon (who preferred to be called Cal) if they would like to join her the following day for tea.  She would introduce Rose to Cal, and hopefully courtship would begin shortly.  

            Rose was wary of this meeting, because she was only 14, soon to be 15.  She had no real thoughts yet of marriage or children.  But her mother wanted her to meet this Cal man now, so that she and Cal could develop a relationship early.  That afternoon, Rose was dressed in her best tea dress, and she sat with her mother, waiting to meet the Hockleys.  

            Christian and Nathan arrived at the Bukater mansion around 2 o'clock that afternoon.  Rose was surprised that her potential new suitor was so handsome.  But she also noticed something else about him.  Outwardly, he was every bit like a society man, but she saw, for a fleeting moment, a sadness and hurt in his eyes.  But as quickly as it came, it was gone.  "Rose, I would like you to meet Mr. Caledon Hockley," said her mother.  "Hello," said Rose, as she and Christian/Cal shook hands.  "H-Hello," stammered Christian.  He couldn't believe it.  This Rose girl was beautiful.  She looked so much like Satine that he didn't know what to say.  Of course, she was much younger than Satine had been, but still – the red hair, the blue eyes, the pale skin…he knew now that this must be a message from Satine somehow, telling him that this girl would be his new love, though she was young.  He turned to Ruth, and told her he needed to speak to her.  "Of course, Mr. Hockley," said Ruth.  He took her into the parlor, and told her this.  "Ruth, may I have the pleasure of coming to call on your daughter when she turns 15?"  Of course Ruth's response was a resounding yes.  "Why certainly, Mr. Hockley," she said.  "Please, call me Cal," he responded.  "Cal, you may begin courting her as soon as she is 15.  My Rose couldn't ask for a better suitor."  Christian just smiled.  Then the two of them walked back into the front atrium together, and that afternoon the four of them enjoyed a lovely tea together.

London 1912

It was Rose's 17th birthday, and Christian/Cal – now her fiancé - had a very special present for her.  For their return trip to America, he had bought them (Rose, Ruth, himself) all first class tickets on _Titanic_ – the new ocean liner from White Star Line that was believed to be unsinkable.  By now, Rose had grown to dislike Cal quite a bit, he seemed very full of himself and seemed to act like he owned her.  

            Christian himself didn't really know where this new attitude had come from.  He supposed that he was trying to be so unlike his former self, and was trying to fit in with Philadelphian high society.  

            While they were on their trip in Europe, Rose had purchased a book in Paris.  It was called _The Moulin Rouge_, and was the most beautiful love story Rose had ever read – She reread it many times throughout the trip.  Christian had not been with Rose when she had bought his book, so he did not know that she had it in her possession.  If he had, he would have surely reacted strangely, at least in Rose's eyes.  But he did not know, and continued to act toward her with his "society man" attitude.  

Southampton, April 10, 1912

Rose, Christian/Cal and Ruth all arrived at the Southampton dock in high style – Renaults.  Rose was not really impressed by Titanic outwardly, because she wanted to have a contradicting view with Cal.  She had grown to really dislike him, but knew that her father had left her family with nothing but debts hidden behind the Bukater name.  She also knew that her marriage to Cal would secure her place, both socially and financially.  As she boarded the ship, she thought of it as her last free time before the marriage when they returned, and knew she had to savor it.  

            One night, the first night on the ship actually, Rose sat in her stateroom, looking in the mirror.  She couldn't go through with this marriage.  It would damage her, and her spirit – the one thing her father loved best, and the one thing he wanted her to preserve.  She couldn't lose it by marrying Cal, but there was no way out.  She stood up, ready to run out of that room, and end her life forever, when Cal came in.

                                                              * * * * *

For two hours, Christian had been sitting in his stateroom, unsure of what to do.  He knew that Rose did not love him.  Why would she?  He was being an awful person to her.  But he was being everything Nathan had taught him to be, and everything Ruth wanted him to be.  He was just like every other upper class Philadelphian – at least that's what they all thought.  Inwardly, he spent hours lamenting his Satine, and weeping because he loved Rose, though he didn't show it.  So, after much thought, he decided to go to Rose, and confess his love for her.  

            And that is how he felt when he entered Rose's stateroom, only to find her on her way out, with a pained look on her beautiful face.  "Rose – what are you doing?" he asked her.  "Leaving," she stated matter-of-factly.  "Y-yes, but…why?" he asked.  She couldn't answer that, for he would certainly insist that she stay, and she would be forced to obey, and forced to live a life she didn't want.  It was during this moment of silence that Christian noticed a book on the table beside her bed.  HIS book.  He gasped.  She had his book!  She had read every word; she knew of his love for Satine, of the Moulin Rouge, of the Bohemian life.  It was then that he knew he had to tell her who he really was.  That he was not Caledon Hockley, son of the Pittsburgh steel tycoon, but Christian: penniless writer and lover of Zidler's Sparkling Diamond.  

            Rose noticed him gasp, and followed his gaze.  The book.  He had seen the book she was reading.  She ran over to the table and grabbed it from his staring eyes, holding it close.  Surely he would not approve of this.  But when she looked at him, she thought she saw tears forming in his eyes, and that pained expression she had seen the first day she met him returned.  "Cal?  Is there something wrong?"  she asked him, softening up to him for the first time in a few years.  "N-no," he stammered.  "Actually, everything is just right.  I realize now how perfect it all is," he said.  She looked at him, confused at this sudden display of emotion.  He took her hands in his own, and looked deep into her eyes.  "Rose, there is something I have to tell you."  He said.  She just nodded; now was not the time for her to speak. "I…I am not who you think I am."  She couldn't resist.  "What?"  she asked.  "Just listen.  My story may be confusing, and you might not believe it, but you have to try.  For me."  He told her.  "Actually, you might want to sit down," he suggested.  She did so, sitting down on the chair by the mirror, where moments ago she was considering ending her own life.  "As I said, I am not who you think I am.  You know me as Caledon Hockley, Nathan Hockley's son, but that is not who I am.  Nathan Hockley has no children."  She looked at him, bewildered.  Nathan Hockley has no children?  Then who could he be?  He continued.  "I am Nathan's adopted son.  We met in London in 1900, when I had just returned from Paris.  Nathan and I became friends, and he became a father to me.  He told me of his late wife, and how she had died bearing his stillborn son, whom he intended to name Caledon.  I in turn told him of the loss I had encountered in Paris, in Monmarte, at the Moulin Rouge.  My-"  he stopped, his voice cracking, tears welling up in his eyes.  Through his blurred vision, he imagined he was talking to Satine, and not Rose, but he knew he had to continue.  "It was at the Moulin Rouge that I lost her – my love, my only love, my beautiful S..Sa…Satine."  And now it was Rose's turn to gasp.  Satine?  Could it be?  Could this man in front of her be the very one who had written the book she so dearly loved?  Was this the mysterious Christian?  "You mean…I mean…did you…that is…did you write this book?" she asked, referring to the book in her hands.  "Y-yes, I did." He responded.  "It's so beautiful," she told him.  "But it's just so tragic," she added.  And as she glanced at her own reflection in the mirror, she knew why Christian had looked at her that way on that first day.  She reminded him of Satine.  "Yes." He said more confidently now.  "I am Christian.  Not Caledon Hockley.  I hope you can forgive me," he told her.  "Oh Christian," she said.  And for the first time in her knowing him, she hugged him close, a gesture that demonstrated how deeply she felt for him and his loss.  He just sat there, in her embrace, so much like Satine's, and just sobbed.  He felt he could sit in her arms forever, the tears cascading over onto her, letting his sorrow out.  Rose understood, and just held him.  No one would need to know who he really was.  Once the marriage was final – and she had no doubts of marrying him anymore for both had experienced great losses, they surely could find solace in each other – they could stop with the "Cal" charade, and she could know him as Christian, the penniless Bohemian writer.

**A/N:  **This is the end of my fic – I don't plan on continuing it, but if anyone would like me to continue, and has any ideas, please review and/or email me! (my email address is mud7@springmail.com)


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